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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299812">Fruit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezwra/pseuds/ezwra'>ezwra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Violence, Dream Sex, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Minor Character Death, Serious Injuries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:13:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezwra/pseuds/ezwra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Like all good fruit the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin</p><p>interlude 1 (ripe &amp; ruin) - Alt-J</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i - the ripe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>THIS WORK IS BASED SOLELY OFF OF FANDOM REFERENCES AND CHARACTERISATIONS. I am writing this to rt/ah guidelines as best as I know them. I do not know of their in video personas as I havent watched regularly since 2014. These are characters based on / referencing real people, but are not those people.</p><p>listen man i just like to beat up gavin ok? ok.</p><p>you can tell i started this a long time ago cause its set during christmas lol but time isnt real and im desperate to post something.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s the middle of winter, so it’s the perfect time for robbing a bank. Christmas bonuses cashed in and money put aside for gifts; they’ll be coming away golden. Ryan’s currently standing guard at the entrance to the vaults, Michael and Gavin behind him wittering away while packing their duffels with stacks of bills and gold bars. Ryan checks his clip again, a bad habit, before popping it back in and counting how many he has on his belt, then the grenades, then the automatic shotgun on his back and the uzi strapped to his thigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a loud bang above them, shaking the foundations of the building and causing dust to shower over them all. Gavin squawks, shaking his hair to remove some of the largest pieces of rubble, while Michael just laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nearly done, boi, then we can spend all this cash on a lint roller, or one of those cat hair brushes for your fur.” Michael grins, vicious and bloodthirsty. Ryan knows he’d much rather be up top, but cracked ribs and a lost bet meant that Jeremy took his place with jack and Geoff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Under his mask, Ryan smiles at Gavin's offended noise, “Michael, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that's just mean!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry to interrupt the cuckolding, V,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Geoff pipes in through the comms, taking Ryan's focus for a moment, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>there’s a couple coming your way, maybe more. One armoured, three or four officers.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Los Santos’ best and brightest,” Ryan sighs out, checking his clip again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Afraid so.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan casts a quick glance to the two behind him, scans over Gavin's hunched over form with a fond sigh before stepping out and rolling his shoulders. The echoes of boots pounding down stone stairs reaches him quickly, and he readies himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first two officers that round the corner go down with twin sprays of blood, holes between their eyes and the officer behind them covered in blood and brain matter. Ryan smirks, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop pop</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his gun making Gavin jump in his peripherals, but Michael just shoves him and they get back to work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next officer shoots wide, eyes covered in his comrades’ blood; Ryan catches him with a bullet in the neck, blood spraying in time with his pulse - Ryan assumes he hit the carotid artery. Good shot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The armoured officer comes out next, and Ryan wishes he had his cop killers on him, but there’s no time to think about it. The man draws out an automatic AR, and Ryan ducks back into the room with Gavin and michael.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All okay there, love?” Gavin asks, smiling as if he hasn't just listened to three bodies hit the floor, “need some assistance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan grins softly, lifting his mask quickly to wink before tugging it back down, “no thank you, gav, i've got it all under control.” he slips his pistol into his waistband, pulling his shotgun from his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gross,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hears Michael mutter, he assumes in good nature, before he leans around the corner. The end of the barrel knocks into the other officer, pressing against his chest. Ryan locks eyes with him, time seeming to slow for a few moments before he pulls the trigger, ignoring the fear in the man’s eyes and instead sending him to the floor with most of his chest cavity caved in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The armoured officer fires off a few rounds, and Ryan has to fling his arm back to hold Gavin and Michael away from the spray. He fires off one, two, three shells at the man, damaging his helmet on the first two before caving the front of it in on the third, leaving most of his head a soupy mess in the back of the helmet, reminiscent of overripe fruit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin gags behind him, while Michael laughs, “overkill, much?” he grins wildly and rushes forwards, dancing around each puddle of blood and kicking the occasional body on purpose, spitting on the last one before leaving, two of the duffels on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin nudges him and presses the strap of one of the remaining duffels into his palm, “glad we’re not on clean up,” he says, chewing his lip before drawing his own pistol. Ryan slings the bag on and nods slowly, checking over the bodies and taking all the extra ammo he can carry before nodding to Gavin, walking over to the stairs that lead up to the bank, behind the tellers’ area. Ryan takes some of the cash from the registers - pocket change if he’s honest, but a dollar is a dollar - and wedges it into his bag, leaving through the front of the bank and shooting some of the remaining officers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You remember the plan?” Ryan asks, turning to Gavin, he looks nervous but nods anyway, grinning bright and beautiful with faux confidence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm riding with Michael and Jack,” he slowly recites, “we’ll be going across town to the safe house in the suburbs west of the golf club- Rye, we both know this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't worry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan watches him carefully before nodding. They both jog down the street, breaths fogging in the air and soles of their shoes slapping loudly in the puddles. The two get away cars, both armoured to all hell and jet black, are both ready, smoke escaping the exhaust as the engines are revved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get your little asses in gear,” geoff shouts from the left one, poking his head out of the window, “more will be on us soon, and i want a nice warm shower!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin nods and grins, dumping his two bags in the trunk of the right car, sliding into the back seat after blowing a kiss to ryan. He catches it, smirking under his mask, before doing the same and sliding into the left car. Jeremy’s sat shotgun, grinning big and a new bruise growing bright and vibrant on his jaw, edging up to his eye. Geoff is suitably tattered, hands scratched up and the edges of his suit jacket slightly charred, the smell of smoke filling the car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both of the cars pull out into the road, driving side by side with the occupants jeering and laughing at each other. Ryan catches Gavin's eyes and he lifts his mask, smiling big and bright, before tugging his uzi out and standing up through the sunroof, keeping an eye out for any reinforcements.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything in Ryan's life, up until this point, has been taken with a grain of salt. There’s no silver lining, there’s not really any happy endings in sight for him, and there’s certainly no white picket fence, dog, two kids and a happy spouse. No dreams to be dashed, no real end goal - just fuck shit up and have fun doing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So now, when everything has gone so perfectly, is obviously when whatever deity there is decides to spill the whole box of salt, turns those silver linings black, and turns his happy ending into a 90’s heart warming family drama, kids and dogs dying all over the place. Imagine </span>
  <em>
    <span>My Girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but with three times more bees, and those bees have man sized guns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two cop cars come out just as the right car pulls ahead, one barging into the side of it, and the other pushing into the car Ryan is currently sitting in. two or three cars come up from behind, too, firing wildly at both the getaway cars. Ryan ducks back inside, cursing and lowering the window closest to the cop car next to them. He wedges his shotgun through the gap, aiming at the tyre. When he shoots, it bursts, as expected, and some of the slugs ricochet back into their own car, cracking against the side like rather violent hailstones, a few cutting into the sides of his hands through his gloves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cop car swerves and slows down, the driver lining up perfectly for ryan to pull the trigger and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clip is empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gun clicks, echoing silently, and he curses. Jeremy pokes his own gun out and takes over, pistol rounds cracking the glass and going wide. Ryan fumbles with the shotgun shells, loading in one, two, three, four, before leaving it at half and aiming again. This time, when he shoots, it shatters the window and leaves the driver smeared along the inside of his car and his partner; the cruiser veers off and crashes into a building, a smoking mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geoff slams his foot down on the accelerator and the vehicle shoots forwards, slamming into the cop car in front of them and making it swerve violently, just to give Jack's car a break. Ryan turns around and focuses on shooting the cars behind them, aiming at tyres and drivers to try to send them crashing into each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One or two manage to land lucky shots on the window, leaving cracks or small holes, eventually spider-webbing out and obscuring his vision. He uses the but of his gun to clear it out, gritting his teeth and turning his face away from the shards of glass before tugging a grenade from his belt. He pulls the ring, cooking it off slightly before letting it bounce from his hands, rolling under the cops. He turns away and ducks down behind the seat, arms over his head to shield himself from the noise and any debris. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their car jolts forwards, knocking into the others and making them swerve slightly before righting themselves and turning down the road, their cars separating now as they reach one of the rivers and go for different safehouses. Ryan watches from the back, waving to Gavin when he catches him doing the same-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until a cop car t-bones them viciously from one of the bridges, sending the car spinning screeching sideways, smoke rising from the tyres; the car ends up pinned between the cruiser and a building, a crumpled mess from the beating it’s been taking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geoff,” Ryan shouts, eyes wide behind his mask as he watches the scene grow further and further away, “turn around- </span>
  <em>
    <span>turn the car around</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Geoff remains on the same path, Ryan turns to face him, watching as his knuckles go white on the steering wheel, jaw clenching tight and face pale, “we stick to the plan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> the plan! Are you gonna fucking leave them to the cops? You know they won't go down without a fight, they're gonna get themselves fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geoff shakes his head and lets out a mustering sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a few moments before he opens them and shakes his head. Jeremy is oddly silent beside him. Cracking his knuckles over and over until they start to bruise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan stays silent in his seat, gritting his teeth and checking his clip in his pistol, then his uzi, then counting all the shells in his shotgun. He repeats this until the car stops, until the ringing in his ears grows too loud, until he can't bear </span>
  <em>
    <span>not knowing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he jumps out of the car, sliding his shotgun onto his back and putting his pistol in his waistband, his uzi back on his thigh. Ryan goes into the garage and pulls a cover from an old bike - vintage, something jack’s been working on while she’s had spare time and they’ve had to lie low, Ryan likes to help her with it sometimes, wanted to let her christen it but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs </span>
  </em>
  <span>it - and looks through all the surfaces for the keys, practically trashes the place before finding them with their shitty four leaf clover keyring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamming the key into the ignition and turning it, he’s barely on the bike before shooting out into the street, driving in between cars and back to the scene. Ryan can feel tears welling up, feel them streaking along his temples and smearing his face paint messily, the wind and his lack of a helmet causes his hair, precariously tied up in a loose french braid (thinking of gavin doing it before the heist, stood behind him on a stool with his thin fingers gently working his unruly hair into some semblance of neatness, makes his heart hurt, a knife twisting in a wound), to come loose and whip around in the breeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches the wreckage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no one there, bodies of cops scattered around the floor and all the cars smoking. Ryan rushes over to the car they should be in, looks in both of the open doors. There’s too much blood, coating the seats and the roof of the car, a few bullet casings have been left behind, but the glove box is empty and the trunk of the car, upon inspection, is also empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan sighs out carefully, looking around before noticing the trail of blood leading down an alley. He draws his gun and follows, looking around each corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finds Jack first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s got a bullet wound in her upper arm, shirt stained red, the bright blues and yellows turning unsettling shades of brown and red. She raises her own gun when Ryan turns the corner, but lowers it with a shaky laugh when she recognises him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking hell,” she croaks, forcing herself to her feet, “this was a clusterfuck. Michael’s got the money, he's heading for the safehouse, and Gavin…” Ryan watches desperately as she scans her own memory, her weak smile fading, “i don't know. I think he got away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan nods slow, gently taking her arm, “reckon you could ride a bike? Jeremy and Geoff are back at base.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They're not with you?” he shakes his head, “damn, you’ve got it hard.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan screws his face into some amalgam of an expression under the mask, steadying her when she stumbles, “i know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm glad you know. Does he?” she straddles the bike carefully, putting her hands against the seat and balancing herself. When Ryan nods slowly, she smiles a little softer, the teasing, sharp edges smoothing out into something more caring, mother hen like, “good. I’ll tell the others to help search, but be careful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan nods, saluting her and smiling gently at her bright laugh as she drives away, slow and steady. He makes sure the surrounding few blocks are empty of cops (and, dare he say it, blood tracks) before walking down the alley closest to the wreckage. Ryan refuses to look back inside, refuses to face what could be Gavin's blood seeping through the threads of the upholstery. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The more he searches, the more he panics. It’s been nearly two hours since the initial crash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the amount of blood in the car, who knows how far Gavin got. Has he already been detained? Is he hiding somewhere? Did Michael go back for him, and they're already at their allocated safehouse? Is he dead in one of the filthy alleys around here? Alone?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thought causes bile to rise up in Ryan’s throat, and he’s barely ripped the mask away before he's leaning against the brick wall and throwing up, coughing and gasping as his mind decides to focus on that thought; Gavin dying alone, in pain, bleeding out into the streets, another loss for the Fakes, body left for the cops, glassy eyes shut tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Ryan remembers, briefly, that dying alone was one of Gavin’s main fears, something the man admitted while they were alone in bed together. Gavin was facing the wall, with Ryan spooned up behind him, and the covers were pulled up under their chins.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Ryan misses the simpler times)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he thinks about what Geoff would do. Maybe he’d go insane, drinking and murdering and crying at night because Gavin is basically his </span>
  <em>
    <span>son</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ryan wipes at his mouth, panting shakily, before standing up and walking further down the alley, glass and gravel crunching under his heavy boots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an increase in noise, something crashing and glass shattering, followed by a curse. Ryan follows the sounds with his gun raised, the crunch of the gravel now inaudible due to each step being much more careful than before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches a corner and presses himself to the brick wall, checking the clip in his gun once more before rounding the corner with his weapon raised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't shoot!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan sighs out in relief at the sound of Michael's voice, rushing over to him and pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder, “are you okay? Where’s Gavin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael seems pretty disoriented if his uneven gait has anything to do with it, especially when paired with the way his eyes flicker from side to side, shivers wracking his body. “I-i,” Michael shifts and Ryan has to catch him when he nearly stumbles, “i couldn't carry him anymore, i-i… my arm..?'' Michael shakes his head as if to clear the disorientation from his system, “he’s safe, i just… I needed to find someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s heart hurts a little at the statement, but he just nods gently, “i'm here now,” he reassures the younger man, “i'm here, okay? Just take me to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael nods slowly and turns around, shuffling back through the door he obviously had to force his way through earlier. There’s blood smeared on the wall and floor and Ryan has to force himself to look away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he looks back to Michael, he can see the younger man is still shaking heavily, one arm clutching his abdomen. Ryan hesitates before removing his jacket and draping it over Michael's shoulders to try keep him warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Michael smiles tiredly at Ryan, doing his best to keep a good pace as he walks. He looks back down at the floor and Ryan assumes it’s going to return to silence until Michael starts to speak again, “you… you really care about Gavvy, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s heart leaps into his throat and he can barely get the words out, “yeah, i do.” They exit the building and Michael leads him through winding alleys in the dark, almost as if by instinct.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael nods, stumbling slightly, “good. He really likes you too. Never stops talkin’ about ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s… nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s usually when we’re drunk,” Michael rambles on, bringing the jacket tighter around his body, “you’re always on his mind, i guess. Drunk man's words are a sober man’s thoughts, or whatever…” Ryan smiles weakly at the thought, glad to know that Gavin's in a similar situation to him when it comes to the two of them, unable to stop thinking about one another. Michael picks up the pace when they reach a set of stairs, “do you have a phone? I… I should call someone, I tried earlier but… my phone’s fucked...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my jacket pocket.” Ryan says distractedly, not really listening as he steadies Michael at the bottom when he nearly falls before looking around the bottom of the storm drain they’ve ended up in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice lockscreen,” Michael comments, opening his contacts. Ryan doesn't even need to look over to remember the picture, the gentle slope of Gavin's back, the brit laid in bed asleep on his side and facing away from the camera. If Ryan closes his eyes he can practically trace the sharp edges of the muscles in his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan looks around the storm drain before his breath is sucked from his body. He abandons Michael at the stairs, sprinting towards the slumped over figure he can see in the distance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“<em>G</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>avin!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ii - the ruin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warnings 4 sex and temporary hearing loss</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Everything is oddly quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's an annoying ringing in Gavin's ears, head spinning and he has to blink too fast, over and over, because blood keeps getting in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are three things he knows for certain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Firstly, he’s in too much pain. He thought his threshold for pain was quite high before his, more than capable of taking a beating, take a licking and keep on ticking, that type of stuff. But his leg is a bloody mess, radiating pain like- like- like something that radiates pain. A lot. And his head hasn't stopped bleeding for the whole time that Michael had his shredded shirt pressed against it, and his ribs hurt too much.</span>
</p>
<p><span>Secondly. Michael is also hurt, which means they can't get away as fast. Michael and Jack were, apparently, able to take the ones surrounding them out with some slight issues, but there’s going to be reinforcements - there always is. Now Jack is gone, and it’s just three quarters of a person left able to fight (Gavin is a single quarter, while Michael is the half. Better than nothing) and they’re a </span><em><span>little</span></em> <em><span>bit lost</span></em><span>.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>And lastly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin wants Ryan. Wants him so viscerally, that he would do anything. Everywhere that Michael touches him, his back and his arm and his waist, burns with the horrible feeling of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not Ryan</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wants the man like he wants the pain to stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to stop in general, actually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is it getting dark in here?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He comes to in a strange little area under a highway bridge, one of the many Los Santos viaducts flowing somewhere behind them if the smell is any clue, and Gavin recognises the scorch mark on the sloped wall, one he left when he was testing bombs with Michael. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin opens his eyes slowly, frowning and squirming slightly because he’s laid against something strange; when he realises it’s the bags, he makes a noise, but he's unsure as to whether it’s a laugh or a sob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael rushes over quickly, talking so fast but not as loud as usual, not loud at all. Michael wipes at Gavin's face, he frowns and winces and tries to squirm away, but he can't move easily. It’s too cold in the open like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan would be warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin watches Michael's mouth move, tries to make some sense of the words he knows are being said, but he can't understand a single thing. He looks up at Michael, eyes half lidded and mouth downturned in a small frown, and scans his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael is pale and he looks terrified, clicking his fingers in front of his face but that only further disorients him, makes his head spin like one of those teacup rides at a fayre. There’s meant to be a carnival soon, maybe he should take Ryan. He could steal him one of those big toys he always makes ‘secret’ eyes at, make him smile and laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin misses Ryan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He notices Michael stand up and pace, muttering to himself before taking out his phone. Gavin looks down at himself, chin touching his chest. His left leg has a deep gash, spanning from the outer side of his knee to the top of his inner thigh, much deeper where the flesh is softer. Gavin would poke at it more, complete disregard to his own hair-trigger gag reflex, but there’s cloth folded and tied tight to the wound, embedded inside of the gash to stop the blood loss and only showing the edges of the wound. His jeans are ruined, the tear far from fashionable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin’s limited attention is drawn away from his leg when there’s rapid movement in the corner of his eye. Michael stomps and tugs at his hair and Gavin </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s cursing but there's no sound. He watches Michael's tantrum before the man stops and walks over, kneeling down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks Michael's shouting, can hear it slightly through the ringing in his ears, but he’s not entirely sure of what he’s saying. Michael frowns heavily and Gavin almost feels bad for being such a big issue like this. There's a slight lapse in his attention, almost like a very long blink, and suddenly Michael is grasping his hands and pressing the hilt of a knife into his palm, manually curling Gavin's cold fingers around the grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael says something again, a pained look crossing his face. Gavin squeezes the knife grip tightly and sighs out shakily. Michael begins to stand and step away, almost reluctantly, and icy fear grips his heart. He wants to say something, plead for Michael to stay, but his tongue is too thick in his mouth and his head starts to pulse with red-hot pain. His body feels like a rotting fruit, collapsing in uselessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches Michael leave, going off into the distance and Gavin can barely see the steps he ascends because of how dark it is. A gutteral noise escapes him and it’s so raw that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span> but no one’s there to hear him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't want to die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panic seizes his body and he tenses up, burning pain shooting through his leg and causing him to rasp out weakly. He clutches the knife tighter, finger tips aching and nails chipping against the rough material because of the tight grip. Gavin looks down and touches at the edge of his leg again, gasping shakily and looking away to try and push down the nausea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't want to die like this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A hand strokes up his thigh gently, fingers dipping against the soft flesh on the inside and a warm body pressing up against him from behind. He smiles gently and presses the side of his face deeper into the pillow. The hand trails up until those calloused fingers hook gently against his hip bone, almost as if the crevice was made for them to sink into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmh,” Gavin presses back into the body behind him, smiling gently when a stubbly chin scratches along his shoulder and a cold nose presses against the edge of his jawline. He shivers at the first wet kiss, brows raising when teeth graze the sensitive skin, “morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” Ryan parrots. Of course it’s Ryan. Why didn't he know that? Ryan’s scarred body against his own, Ryan's bitten lips pressing against his neck, Ryan's hand sliding along his stomach and scratching gently. “Sleep well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin simply nods, shifting slightly so the sheets come up higher and the soft cotton tickles his nose. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always,” Ryan says, and that’s strange for some reason. Gavin doesn't understand why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand slides up and gently traces the dips and valleys of his ribs, becoming feather light over scars as more kisses are scattered along the skin of his shoulder. Teeth sink into the strong muscle briefly and Gavin gasps, the sensation so different to the gentle brushing of Ryan's lips and hand. He presses closer, desperately wanting to just sink into the other man, be held close and safe and never let go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost jolts slightly when something firm presses against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Gavin knows he’s blushing but he can't feel the heat of it, but he doesn't care enough. Instead, Gavin turns over onto his other side and is instantly met with the softness of Ryan's mouth pressing against his own. They trade kisses like that for a while, just breathing each other and touching each other. Teeth graze his bottom lip and he gently presses slim hands against Ryan's broad chest, feeling the larger man’s rapid heartbeat and feeling his own speed up, almost as if in time with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The slick muscle of Ryan’s tongue presses into his mouth and Gavin lets out a shaky sigh, arching into the slow drag of Ryan’s hand down the centre of his back, the large palm resting at the bottom of his spine and his pinkie and ring finger brushing against the gentle swell of his ass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin presses his tongue against Ryan's, feeling his own cock start to gently swell when Ryan's brushes closer. He drags his hands down Ryan's chest, fingers brushing over Ryan's nipples and gently scratching over his ribs until his hands reach the soft flesh of his abdomen. Gavin smiles gently into the kiss, can't help himself from laughing softly, and Ryan instantly presses his mouth under Gavin's ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Ryan murmurs, voice low and raspy, “don't laugh, m’workin’ on it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin whines softly, tilting his head to offer more access before shifting closer and nosing against the dips in Ryan’s throat, kissing gently, “no, don't,” he presses his fingers firmer into the soft flesh, smiling at the tense muscle underneath, “you’re beautiful. I love you like this.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>i love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> goes unspoken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kisses the tendons in Ryan's neck, pressing closer and sliding his hands along the gentle slopes of Ryan's hips, squeezing his ass with a lecherous grin. Ryan huffs and loops his arms around Gavin's waist, and the smaller man’s never felt safer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin barely thinks about it before he swings his leg over Ryan's waist and tips them both, ending up with Ryan laid out beautifully beneath him, sprawled like a renaissance painting. He can't resist himself, has never been able to stop himself from indulging in the finer things. He leans down and catches Ryan’s mouth in a wet kiss, leaning one forearm against the pillows and cupping Ryan’s jaw with his other hand, thumb pressing against Ryan’s bottom lip and tugging it down gently to allow Gavin access to the warm cavern of his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their hips begin to rock together gently, Ryan's movements so gentle and slow beneath him. Gavin moans sweetly into Ryan's mouth, sharing the taste of pleasure that comes from the simple movement, before sitting up and separating from the older man. Ryan’s lips are wet and slightly bruised, the tender flesh turning red beautifully under his own mouth. He keeps his thumb pressed against Ryan's bottom lip and rocks more, moving his other hand to gently curl along the arch of Ryan's ribs, fingers slotting into the dips perfectly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s already slickness between his cheeks, and Gavin doesn't question it. He angles his hips carefully and allows Ryan to slide into the warm clutch of his body. Gavin doesn't make a sound, brows raising and spine bending back as he bares down on the warm flesh inside of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan moans gently, almost sweetly, but doesn't move. He doesn't push the pace. There’s no rushed frotting or grinding, no grasping hands or biting teeth. No limits, no boundaries, only unlimited time with Ryan. Their hips rock together simply, no pushing or pulling, only gentle presses and shifting. It’s perfect. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ryan’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Gavin gasps, making a figure-eight with his hips. Ryan goes to say something but that slight movement makes him gasp and arch his back slightly, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?” Ryan asks, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of Gavin's thumb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For-” Gavin gasps gently, rising up slowly on his knees and sinking down. It feels like ryan’s carving out a place inside of him, the warmth of his large body butting up under his lungs, tears rising with the motion-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For being with me,” Gavin repeats the motion, again and again, no sound rising apart from their breaths and Gavin’s words, “for being here-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby,” Ryan breathes out, Gavin watches the flush of unshed tears spread across the man’s cheekbones, “I'll never go, I'll always be here, I'm yours.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin throws his head back and presses his nails against Ryan’s skin, he’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s hands press against his hips, grasp at his shoulders, touching him all over-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He arches his back </span>
  <em>
    <span>and-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin jolts back into consciousness when hands tightly grip his shoulders and shake him. His fingers curl tightly around the knife in his lap and he lashes out, pure instinct, fear coursing through his veins. He struggles wildly and fights against whoever’s touching him, holding him, unintelligible words seeping in through the panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-vin, <em>G</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>avin</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Gavin’s struggling begins to slow and he gasps, his wrists being kept in a gentle grip. Slowly, carefully, his eyes open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s still pitch black, he's under the bridge still. He’s where Michael left him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan. it’s like all the pain seeps from his body when he realises who’s with him who’s touching him so kindly like he’s made of glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s big blue eyes are staring at him, flicking worriedly all over his body. He stares quietly up at the man, barely able to hear the words of comfort he knows the older man is spewing. Slowly, carefully, Gavin drops the knife. The loud clatter it makes causes his ears to pop slightly, everything muffled and strange now like he’s underwater. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin slowly reaches up, his hand easily escaping Ryan's careful grip. He presses his cold fingers against Ryan's warm mouth, silencing his words, before replacing the fingers with his thumb. He tugs on his bottom lip, the blood and filth on his own skin contrasting the pale skin and white paint of Ryan's face. His hand trails up along Ryan's jaw and the man doesn't say anything, just letting Gavin do what he wants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin’s hand presses against the back of Ryan's neck, touch gentle and kind. He gently tugs Ryan's hand down and presses their foreheads together. Ryan’s so warm and it's a </span>
  <em>
    <span>delightful</span>
  </em>
  <span> feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm sorry,” Ryan breathes out, breath warm against Gavin's face, “I'm so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin hushes him gently, brushing their lips together sweetly before tugging Ryan closer, bringing his other arm up and hugging the man carefully. Ryan’s hands hover hesitantly before settling over his waist, large hands warm and kind. “You’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s all Gavin says, whispering gently into Ryan's ear like it’s the only thing that matters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s shoulders begin to shudder gently, soft noises escaping the larger man. Gavin just sighs out and sinks his fingers into the black t-shirt under his hands, pressing his mouth against Ryan's shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm here,” Ryan chokes out, “I'll always be here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything after that is a bit of a blur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geoff arrives with one of the crew doctors, someone they’ve paid off from one of the local hospitals, and suddenly everything is blurring around him. But Ryan stays.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan stays through it all, even the parts he can't remember. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s sat at the headboard, leaning his back up against it and cradling Gavin's head gently. Gavin wants to be closer, wants to curl up tightly in Ryan's arms, but his injuries mean that any position that isn't on his back makes his body ache terribly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can barely remember the little things that are wrong. Many, many stitches. Lots of bruising, and a nice gash down his leg that means he’ll have to be on bedrest for up to a month before starting physio. Michael and Jack got it almost as bad, shot up and bruised, one of Michael's arms broken and Jack sporting a major concussion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he’s all healed, Gavin will have to take Michael out for drinks as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> for carrying him around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin blinks slowly, looking up at Ryan with a slow smile, and Ryan smiles kindly down at him; Gavin leans into it when Ryan's hands gently stroke along his neck, “how’s your head?” he asks, voice husky and quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin sighs out and closes his eyes, tilting his head back into the warm cradle of Ryan’s lap, “better,” he croaks. It’s true. The painkillers he’s on are strong and they make him drowsy, but he fights the temptation of sleep to just look at Ryan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought of you,” Gavin says, voice hoarse, “i… I never stopped thinking of you. I…” the words are there, but he can't force them out. He wants to say it, wants Ryan to know, but… it’s scary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s face is pained initially before softening, he leans down and presses a soft kiss against Gavin’s forehead, “it’s okay. I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin swallows around the lump in his throat before laughing tiredly, eyes shining as he reaches up one hand and links their fingers gently against his throat, the muscles in his arm screaming. “I mean,” he sniffs, blinking away tears, “they weren't all pg-13, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan laughs sweetly and shifts his arm so that their hands can stay linked against the mattress instead, “that’s okay,” he smiles and pushes some of Gavin’s hair back, “you’ll have to tell me how those thoughts were when you’re better, if they managed to help with…” a sad look crosses his face briefly, “with your injuries.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin closes his eyes and laughs tiredly, “maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s fingers continue to trace along his throat as he drifts off, lulling him into a restful state.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Gavin.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks 4 reading, please comment because it makes my day and i will always attempt to reply quickly. i love you. </p>
<p>another fic in the works that should be out within the next few weeks, hope you're all staying safe.</p>
<p>if you want me to write something send an ask to @ezwra on tumblr or drop a comment</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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